


13 Years

by cabintardlock



Series: No One Calls It The Apocalypse [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Doctor John, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-War, Pre-Slash, Scientist Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2088309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabintardlock/pseuds/cabintardlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one expected the world to be “over” until it was upon them. It was a war, the worst war anyone had ever seen.  Some people called it World War III, some people called it Hell on Earth, and some people called it the End. The End stuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	13 Years

How are you supposed to know when the world is over?

There are still some people alive, and although many may be suffering, they are alive nonetheless. If there's still some humanity left, then how can you say that the world has ended?

No one expected the world to be “over” until it was upon them. It was a war, the worst war anyone had ever seen. Some people called it World War III, some people called it Hell on Earth, and some people called it the End. The End stuck.

The End was born in not just one lab, but many all over the world. Different countries, each with their own engineered weapons they unleashed on their enemies.

America attacked with an airborne virus devised to kill within seconds of contact. Russia utilized a virus that kept their victims just on the brink of death, until they were in so much pain they begged for death. Japan engineered a weapon that would instantly age people. Those victims were biologically aged around 60 years, leaving little survivors. Labs in Korea created a virus that would alter brain chemistry, morphing people into what were essentially mindless, flesh-craved zombies. It wasn't airborne, but the infection got out into the country. It was contained in Korea, and all routes of travel have been cut off ever since. No one is thought to have lived. Different countries in Europe genetically altered animals to gargantuan proportions and feral ferocity to do their bidding, but the beasts turned. The bloodshed turned whole countries a dull rust brown. Scandinavia was a dead zone. Vatican City was overrun by dragon-sized birds. One laboratory exploded in the fighting, releasing huge clouds of dangerous chemicals into the atmosphere. The rain is no longer safe; it burns skin.

Few survived. All suffered.

The infections spread beyond where they were supposed to, carried on the winds to wreak destruction everywhere on the globe. Death makes no exceptions.

Some people believed it was all orchestrated by the Antichrist. Some believed this was the unveiling of humanity's true nature, and those that were evil were killed. Some believed that it was Judgment Day, and those who were righteous would be raised to a messianic kingdom. Others didn't know what to believe in anymore.

No matter how many have died, some still survive. The fighting fell to a standstill of sorts, and they formed two major alliances. The countries in these alliances didn't fight together, they researched together. Chemicals from the different weapons were still potent, and they were still everywhere. The few victims who survived were still in anguish, with no cures for the pathogens. So they researched.

Amid the destruction of the once great cities, the ones that were blown to rubble and the ones that were infected, with thousands of dead bodies laying undisposed of in their homes, small communities rose. There aren't many of them. One of the biggest, situated near what used to be a small garrison town called Tidworth, has around 7,000 people in it.

This tiny colony was the base for the few remaining government members of the Europe-Americas Alliance, so they conducted most of their research there. They had built a large dome around the area, and people could only leave the base wearing thick, protective suits.

Anyone who wanted to permanently leave the community was forcibly held in the hospital. The government did _not_ want more deaths on their hands, so they did what they had to do.

One of the government members took to calling the base Calypso. The name caught on, and soon everyone knew it as Calypso.

John Watson came to Calypso just as the End began. His father, an army man, had been stationed in one of the barracks in Tidworth for a while, and when the bombings started he immediately sequestered the whole family there, and that's where they stayed.

John hadn't finished his medical studies when he was pulled away, but the scant training was enough for Calypso. He was soon established as one of the main doctors, and he worked both with the scientists and at the makeshift hospital. Back then, John was horribly afraid of the standing he'd gotten in the small populace. Many of the times John had no idea what he was doing, and the idea that his mistakes could kill someone was horrifying.

Luckily, as Calypso grew, a good amount of doctors and nurses arrived, and soon they were running a mostly functional, if not tiny, hospital. Under these doctors, John worked studiously and eventually became just as competent as any of the other medical professionals.

John supposed that he should be content and happy. He was well established, and there was relatively no danger in his position at the hospital. He doesn't think about the times before he was in Calypso, Calypso was what made him who he was. In fact, he barely remembers anything before the End, which was something John found rather strange, as that was most of his life.

Sometimes he wanted to leave, just be rid of the base and run away, consequences be damned. John wanted something more in his life, something that would fulfill him. He didn't care what that was, but if he found it outside the walls of Calypso, then that's where he needed to go. That's when he would remember that he's John Watson; he's the good, caring, sensible doctor that always did as instructed. He couldn't think such ruinous notions.

Sherlock Holmes came to Calypso with his brother. When Calypso was established as the safe town for the heads of the government, his brother was immediately alerted. Being dragged by Mycroft to the base in a hazy, narcotized state of mind, Sherlock was loathe to recall those first couple weeks. All he could remember was begging to be let outside, to be left to die and rot away like the rest of them, because there was nothing left for him in such an anarchic world.

Sherlock had degrees in both Chemical Engineering and Forensic Science (he worked fast) when he arrived at Calypso, and he was immediately placed in research. He knew that it was what needed to be done, and that it would potentially help people live outside again, but he hated it. It was dull, tedious work that anyone with a brain could do, and Sherlock needed more than that.

Unfortunately, there was nothing more than that. What would he have done if the End hadn't happened? Sherlock didn't know, but at least he would've been free. Sherlock thought back to the Carl Powers case that he'd obsessed over as a kid. Maybe if circumstances would've been different, he could've pursued that, put his talents to good use. His deductions were absolutely worthless in Calypso, so much that he didn't even bother deducing people any longer. He'd simply given up.

Here it was at the End, and Sherlock was truly going out of his mind from boredom. It was the type of thing that kept building up, and with every beaker and long-winded report Sherlock wanted to scream. He had nothing but the work everyday, and there was no end to it. Sherlock Holmes was crumbling piece by piece, and there was no one to put him back together.

And so here we are, 13 years after the End began, with one man questioning his lifelong persona and another resigning to a life that's breaking him down. Hope has nearly run out because after so long, there are some things you just have to accept.

No one calls it an apocalypse. No one will label it that until the very last human breath has been drawn, and when that happens, the darkness and the light and the toxic air can call it an apocalypse.

So perhaps hope has not dried out. Perhaps hope can never truly dry out as long as there's still one human being left. Perhaps there's still hope for 2 foolish men who don't yet know that they need each other.

Because you see, when we say the End, we aren't referring to the end of the world. It's the end of an age, and although they don't know it yet, those two deluded men will live to see the birth of a new one.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Let's Write Sherlock Challenge 15, trope bingo! This is basically just an introduction to the series, which will include the actual romance.  
> A humongous thanks to Charlotte from [thebetaservice](http://thebetaservice.tumblr.com/) for going over this.  
> All comments, kudos, and bookmarks are very much appreciated!


End file.
